


I Want You to be Happier

by Huntress8611



Series: Embers and Ashes [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Good Sister Vanya Hargreeves, Let Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) Say Fuck, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress8611/pseuds/Huntress8611
Summary: “Five, I’m really worried about you. You don’t eat or sleep and you’re always on edge. I’m scared for you, I don’t want you to have to suffer like this.”“Vanya, I’m fine,” he said harshly.“No, Five, you aren’t,” she said firmly, startling him, “You need help and I know there’s no way in hell I’ll convince you to get a therapist, so you’re going to hear me out, got it?”“I’ll listen, but I’m not promising anything.”She handed him the stack of articles and braced herself. “Have you ever heard of psychiatric service dogs?”





	I Want You to be Happier

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work is from the song Happier by Marshmello & Bastille.

Five needed help. Vanya had been watching him since they’d averted the apocalypse a few months ago, and he was definitely not okay. He would have panic attacks or flashbacks and teleport away, hoping that nobody noticed and he woke up screaming almost every night, sometimes more than once. He was panicky around groups of people and sometimes thought that people were hallucinations.

She wanted to get him help, but she knew that there was no way in hell that she’d convince him to go aa therapist, so she started to look into other options. A few hours into her search, she stumbled across an article about psychiatric service dogs.  _ That just might work, _ she thought, switching gears and looking into service dogs.

A few day later she had formulated a plan. She had compiled a stack of articles about the benefits of psychiatric service dogs and PTSD and anything she could find that she thought might be able to convince him.

“Five?” she called, knocking softly on his door.

“Come in,” he said.

She opened the door and walked over to Five. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Anything for my favorite sibling,” he said, turning to her and smiling.

They sat down on the floor and Vanya took a deep breath. “Five, I’m really worried about you. You don’t eat or sleep and you’re always on edge. I’m scared for you, I don’t want you to have to suffer like this.”

“Vanya, I’m fine,” he said harshly.

“No, Five, you aren’t,” she said firmly, startling him, “You need help and I know there’s no way in hell I’ll convince you to get a therapist, so you’re going to hear me out, got it?”

“I’ll listen, but I’m not promising anything.”

She handed him the stack of articles and braced herself. “Have you ever heard of psychiatric service dogs?”

“Fuck no, Vanya. I do  _ not _ need a service dog,” he said, shoving the papers back into her hand.

_ “Please _ , Five,” she begged, “Just think about it?”

She help the papers out, hoping with all her might that FIve would be willing to at least think about it.

He sighed and took the papers. “I’ll read them. I’m not making any other promises though.”

_ “Thank you,” _ Vanya said, pulling him into a hug.

After a few weeks, just as Vanya had begun to resign herself to the fact that Five would likely never except help, Five showed up in her room.

“Five?”

“Iwanttotalkaboutaservicedog.”

That’s how Vanya and Five Hargreeves ended up sitting in the lobby of a service dog training facility about half a year after the apocalypse was supposed to happen

“I assume you’re Vanya and Five?”

They looked up to see a woman standing in front of tham and Vanya nodded.

“My name is Alexis and I’m going to be talking to you guys today.”

They stood up and followed her to another room, shutting the door behind them.

“Okay, Five, tell me why you think a service dog would help you,” Alexis said, sitting down on a chair.

Five and Vanya followed, sitting next to each other on a bench up against the wall. “Well, it’s going to sound a bit crazy, but bear with us,” Five said, taking a deep breath.

“That’s alright, go ahead.”

“First thing you need to know is that we’re two of the seven children that were adopted by Reginald Hargreeves. The Umbrella Academy. Well, I was a part f the academy, Vanya wasn’t,” Five explained. He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his tattoo, and quickly continued when he saw the look on her face. “Long story short, I time traveled to the future for around 4 decades, and when I finally got back I got stuck in this 13 year old body. I’m 58.”

She looked at them in disbelief. “I’d love to believe you, but that seems a bit far fetched. Any chance you have any proof?”

Five teleported beside her and then to her other side before returning to his spot next to Vanya.

“Alright, then. Can I ask why you need a service dog?”

“When I traveled to the future, I didn’t exactly end up in a utopia. It was quite literally post-apocalyptic. I was the only one alive, everything was on fire, and ash was raining from the sky. I was 13 and I had to bury my siblings. I was stuck there for decades,” Five stopping to take some deep breaths.

“Okay, is that all?”  she asked, hoping that this kid hadn’t gone through anything else.

“Sadly, no. I got rescued a few decades in by a group called the Commission. Their job is keeping the timeline how it should be. They offered to help me in exchange for me working for them. What I didn’t know was that working for them entailed becoming a time traveling assassin.”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah. I finally figured out the equations to travel back home, give or take a decade, and ended up about a week before the apocalypse. Before you panic, yes, it has been averted. The end result of this is apparently a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“Okay. How do you think a dog could help you?”

Vanya spoke up, letting Five cool off a bit. “We talked about it and determined that the main thing would be alerting to, responding too, and possibly interrupting panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, dissociation. The other things that would be helpful are deep pressure therapy, blocking and covering, checking rooms for people, and confirming that people aren’t hallucinations, if at all possible,” she explained.

“Actually , I think we have a dog that might work. I can go get her, if that’s alright with you.”

Vanya nodded and Alexis looked at Five, waiting for him to agree as well before she left.

“Well, I think that went pretty well,” Vanya said.

“I guess so,” Five responded.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Alexis entered, followed by a dog.

“This is Ember,” she said, bending down and unclipping the leash from her collar. “She’s an Australian Shepard, around one and a half years old, fully public access ready, and almost completely task trained.”

“Can I try something?” Five asked.

“Go ahead.”

He teleported to a spot about five feet away from Ember, moving a few feet closer when she didn’t react. When she still didn’t react, he teleported back to the bench and then to a few inches in front of her, and she just wagged her tail and looked at him. He reached out and let her sniff him, petting her for a few minutes before teleporting to the other side of the small room and taking her with him. She jumped a little bit, but recovered almost instantly.

“I like her,” he decided, sitting down on the floor and petting her.

“I think you two make a pretty good match. Do you want to try it out?” Alexis asked, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I would.”

“Okay, in order for this to happen, I’m going to need you to be here every day for the next three weeks. We’ll work on teaching you her commands and how to handle her in public, as well as having you to bond and teaching you to train her to do additional tasks.”

Vanya crossed her fingers, hoping that this wouldn’t be too much and that five would agree.

“Okay,” he said instantly.

Three weeks later, they were heading home from the training facility once again, but this time Five had Ember’s leash clutched tightly in his hand.

“Hey Vanya?” Five asked.

“Yeah, Five?” she responded.

“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just so y'all know, I know a lot about owner training service dogs, but not much about getting them from programs. I know enough to know this this isn't perfect, but I'm trying my best and the rest should definitely be more accurate. Pretty much, this isn't how programs work and don't expect this if you get a dog from a program.


End file.
